


loose lips

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Extra Treat, Interrogation, M/M, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-20 21:11:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: "Haven’t you heard?” Loki smiled, crooked and cruel. “I’m here to play nice now. Just imagine how nice I could be to you.”





	loose lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etnoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/gifts).

It’s been half a day since the interrogation began.

Loki consented to this. Clearly, he did not agree out of any desire to do right by Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme. He claims to have only feelings of peace towards the planet he once tried to enslave. Stephen still hasn't figured out why, but he will.

Stephen still thinks of that day sometimes. He was conducting surgery when an orderly informed them that the city was under attack. Explosions rocked even the sturdy foundation of the hospital. Stephen was a different man back then, but even that man knew stopping was not an option. He and his staff forged through a successful operation. Afterwards, Stephen received commendations for his perseverance in the face of unthinkable horror. Stephen never would have admitted it then, but it was easier to stay in that operating room. Much easier than peeling back the blinds and seeing the wrecked remains of his city.

Loki sits across the table from Stephen. Thick, iron cuffs connect his wrists to the tabletop. Warded runes mark each wrist, holding Loki’s seidrcraft in check. It took Loki longer to agree to the binding, but he did without force from Strange or a call to Thor.

“I fear nothing from you,” Loki said when he relented. “You second-rate fraud. Your magic is rudimentary. Pathetic. You know these runes because some far wiser mage left them behind for you.”

“Study and practice, yes,” Stephen agreed. “How did you learn your craft?”

“Gods don’t learn their trade,” Loki told him, a thin smile on his lips. “Gods simply are, you quim.”

In the hours that follow, the warded chains take their toll. Under the runed cuffs, blisters of blue begin to crust through Loki’s Asgardian skin. Stephen knows what he is by word of mouth. His books say some things about the Jotunheim and the frost giants who lurk there. But it is his first time seeing any of Loki’s true nature, the skin of his birth beginning to froth to the surface.

Stephen doubts the change is because of the wards themselves. It’s the other method he’s employed. The flora upping Loki’s temperature and making his pale face shine with sweat. His clothes stick to him, shuddering breaths rasped between lips pulled back in a snarl.

Loki laughed when he figured it out. “How crude,” he mocked. “Is this how you go about making your desires known, you half-wit? Perhaps I would have allowed you, had you simply asked. Haven’t you heard?” He smiled, crooked and cruel. “I’m here to play nice now. Just imagine how nice I could be to you.”

Stephen smiled too, and sat back. It was too soon for questions, that he knew. Loki is powerful. On Loki’s last appearance on Earth, Stephen caught him off guard. It isn’t a mistake Loki will make again, and Stephen does not expect him to.

Glass and water still litter the floor from the last time Stephen offered them to Loki. This late in the day, Stephen decides to try again. With the wave of a hand, a full glass appears on the table. This time, Loki gladly accepts. With bound hands, he seizes the glass and pulls it to his lips. Loki drinks greedily and fast, leaving splotches of water on the wood. His chin grows wet from the speed of his guzzling.

Loki only stops to breathe when the glass is empty. It sits between his bridged, shivering fingers. His eyes float about, not concentrating on any one thing. The overhead light shines over their glaze.

It’s time, Stephen thinks. He gestures with a hand, and the cloak around his shoulders rises to shut the door. Beyond it, the cloak hovers, the flutter of its hem tapping the wood every so often.

“Now,” Stephen says, “what are your plans for Earth?”

“What?” Loki's voice rasps despite the water, and he looks startled, like he’s just remembered Stephen is here. His bleary gaze is slow to focus

“What are your plans for Earth?” Stephen repeats.

“Oh.” Loki slumps back in his seat. Sweaty black hair brushes against his face. The glass on the table tips to its side but doesn't break. Loki bridges his fingers over it, their tips tapping in a restless rhythm. “Earth. Yes, I’m - Midgard. That’s right.”

“Loki.” Stephen keeps his voice firm but low. Loki sucks in a breath across from him. “Your plans for Earth. What are they?”

“My stupid brother,” Loki mumbles. “Stupid, leading our people here. Reckless.”

Loki’s chest rises and falls heavily under his clothes. His nipples tent the green fabric.

“What about nearby civilians?” Stephen asks.

Loki’s head lolls to the side. Pink warms his face as he blinks over-shiny eyes at Stephen.

“Civilians,” Stephen repeats. “Humans. Terrans. Midgardians. Whatever you want to call us. Can you live on Earth with its civilians in peace?”

Loki's mouth pops open, and his eyes shift, a crease of confusion between his brows. “I don’t understand,” he says. His unsteady voice makes Stephen think he really may not understand. That this isn’t all some trick, playing into the plot Stephen has set into motion.

Loki is most dangerous when he’s at his most believable. Stephen crosses his arms. “Focus,” he says.

“If it's focus you want, let me out of here,” Loki says. A shiver twitches through his fingers. “Civilians… Norns, I couldn’t care less. I don’t care. Are we done? We need- it has to be done, it’s-” Another shudder. Loki’s lashes flutter. “It’s worse,” he hisses. “It’s so much worse.”

“I’m told gods can handle anything us mortals throw at them, so…” Stephen drums scarred fingers on the table. Loki’s eyes snap down to them. He scans every line, every natural twitch. A breath shivers between his open lips.

“You’re enjoying this,” Loki chokes, hoarse but biting as ever. “You’re...gods, it’s written all over your face, you pathetic-”

“The Avengers plan to assist with the settlement of New Asgard. Work with local governments. Keep the world from mass hysteria over a sudden alien invasion. You’ll need to be civil.”

Loki laughs and closes his eyes. “Civil. Right.” His neck bobs when he swallows.

“Is that a yes, you’ll be civil?” Stephen asks.

Loki’s curled fingers scrape the table. “What, until they try to kill me?”

Stephen frowns. “They won’t-”

“Oh come off it, of course they will.” Loki’s head sinks against a shoulder. He looks at Stephen between the fence of his lashes. “I can hardly blame them. I mean, I did attempt to make their entire race bend the knee. And I assure you, should any of them make an attempt on my life I will _gladly_ make them regret it. But I’ll be far too busy to seek them out. Far, far too busy.” He shifts in his seat. Even with the table between them, Stephen does not miss Loki's spread knees. Or the tented front of his black slacks between his open legs.

Stephen makes a point of squaring his gaze on Loki’s face. Loki’s stare glints sharp as his favorite knives.

“Too busy, huh?” Stephen says. “With what?”

Loki smiles. “You should release me,” he says. “I’ve been quite the good sport, wouldn’t you agree? So patient for Midgard’s young sorcerer. You’re quite new, aren’t you? A babe in the craft. It's rather charming.”

“Loki. What will you be busy with?”

Loki sighs, and his back arches off his seat. He bobs towards the table, a groan muted behind grit teeth. “With rebuilding Asgard, of course,” he says.

Stephen drums fingers against the table again. “I thought that was Thor’s job.”

“Is that what you thought?” Lax as Loki’s pose is, his voice takes on a harder edge. Almost hurt. “Why would it be Thor’s job? What, because he’s of Asgard by blood and good fortune? Because he’s Odin’s true son? Why should Asgard only be Thor’s? It’s mine as much as it is his. I don’t intend to let my fool of a brother ruin what's left of my home.”

Maybe it’s naivety, maybe Loki's suckered Stephen in. But there’s something true past all the bluster and posturing. Something indignant. Something loyal. Something about purpose that Stephen understands.

Stephen lifts a finger. One of Loki’s cuffs comes free. Under the unlatched metal, blotches of blue frost the pale skin Loki chooses to wear. Loki pulls the hand to his chest. Cradled close, his fingers trace the front of his tunic. Slip down the neckline and back up to his neck. A deeper flush rushes to his cheeks.

Stephen looks away. “It’ll wear off in an hour or two,” he says. “When it’s out of your system, I’ll release you.”

It’s his only mistake, turning away for a single moment.

Loki in his in space without warning. Crowded close, the heat of magic and the flora spilling off Loki’s body. He has Stephen by the shirt, both wrists braceleted in blue. Loki’s eyes are on Stephen’s. Then, they’re on his mouth. Loki licks his lips.

Stephen frowns. “I don’t-”

“Oh, I think you do,” Loki says. Lanky as he is, long and slim, he feels like power. Something Stephen in his craft has only begun to taste. Something old and wise and dangerous. “The great sorcerer of Midgard.” Laughter undercuts Loki's every word. “I submitted myself to you by choice. The things you could have done to loosen my lips. The pain you could have brought. But you.” His single index finger taps under Stephen’s chin. “You chose this.

Stephen smacks his hand away. Loki catches it. Fingers lace with scarred fingers, pinning Stephen’s hand to the wall. Loki leans close. His arousal is like a furnace. Stephen feels him against his thighs.

“Hurting you wasn’t the endgame,” Stephen says. “I would have had to answer to your brother for that.”

“Mmm, can we not invoke my dolt of a sibling now? Besides.” Loki’s lips graze Stephen’s neck. “At the moment, you’re answering to me.”

Stephen tests Loki’s grip, tries to wrench his hand away. Loki locks his fingers in place. His thumb caresses Stephen’s wrist, a chide. Stephen grunts his disapproval. “You know this is the spell,” Stephen tells him.

Loki hums agreement against Stephen's neck. “One to two hours, you said. What a lovely excuse. I, well, I can't help myself. And you're far too novice to deny me.”

“Right,” Stephen says. “Thor will love that.”

“Ugh, him again.” Loki's eyes are too green, emeralds under a jeweler’s lights. He stands so close, Stephen feels the warmth of his breath. “Are you?” Loki asks.

“Am I what?”

“Too novice to deny me?” Loki watches Stephen’s face. Stephen stares back.

Whatever Loki sees makes his mouth curl. His head sinks again, finding Stephen’s throat. At Stephen’s pulse point, he presses his lips. Stephen’s heart jumps, a traitor under his skin.

Loki grins with teeth against him. Then, those teeth scrape, a gentle bite that leaves Stephen's neck stinging.

“I didn’t think so,” Loki says, words soft against Stephen’s skin. “I don’t waste my time with amateurs.”


End file.
